The next morning, Zhang Ming entered the Charms classroom, a room buzzing with the nervous energy of first-years. Professor Flitwick, a tiny wizard standing on a pile of books, beamed at his new students.
"Good morning! Today, we begin with the foundation of wizardry—the Wand-Lighting Charm! The incantation is Lumos! A nice, firm swish and flick!"
Zhang Ming watched, unimpressed, as students fumbled with their wands, producing feeble sparks or nothing at all. It was like watching toddlers trying to operate a particle accelerator.
So this is their education system,he mused. Monkey see, monkey do. No theory, no principle, just blind imitation. No wonder the efficiency is abysmal.
When it was his turn, he didn't even bother drawing his wand. He simply raised his index finger. A sphere of pure, brilliant white light, brighter and steadier than any Lumos, bloomed at its tip, illuminating the entire classroom.
The chattering stopped. Jaws dropped.
Professor Flitwick nearly toppled off his stack of books. "Merlin's beard! Wandless! And silent! And the control... the purity of the light! Mr. Zhang! How...?"
"It's simple, Professor," Zhang stated calmly, making the light dance between his fingers. "You're not creating light. You're exciting the ambient magical particles to a high-energy state, causing them to release photons upon decay. The wand and incantation are just... crude tuning forks. Inefficient and unnecessary."
He then proceeded to dissect the charm's theory with the precision of a laser, using terms like 'quantum state excitation' and 'photon emission probability' that left everyone, including Flitwick, utterly bewildered yet fascinated.
By the end of the class, Flitwick was looking at Zhang Ming not as a student, but as a visiting professor. "Ten points to Ravenclaw! No, twenty! Mr. Zhang, would you... would you consider giving a guest lecture?"
Meanwhile, in the dungeons...
The Potions classroom was dark, damp, and smelled of pickled despair. Severus Snape swept in, his black robes billowing like the wings of a giant bat.
"Potter," he sneered, zeroing in on Harry. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Before Harry could stammer a reply, a calm voice cut through the tension.
"A Draught of Living Death, Professor Snape. A powerful sleeping potion."
Snape's head snapped towards Zhang Ming, his eyes narrowing. "And where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"
"In the stomach of a goat, sir. It will save you from most poisons."
"The difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They are the same plant, Aconitum napellus, also commonly known as aconite."
A deadly silence filled the dungeon. Snape stared at Zhang Ming, a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes. "…Clearly, fame isn't everything. Ravenclaw... five points."
But the real shock came during the practical. While others produced foul-smelling, discolored gloop, Zhang Ming's cauldron contained a perfect, pearly-white Boil-Cure Potion. Not just perfect. It shimmered with an unnatural luster.
Snape stared at the potion, then at Zhang, his usual sneer replaced by intense scrutiny. "The method. You deviated from the book. The stirring... the heat..."
"The book's method is inefficient," Zhang stated flatly. "It creates molecular instability. I optimized it. Counter-clockwise stirring after adding the porcupine quills aligns the magical polarity better. And maintaining a steady 110 degrees Celsius, not the vague 'simmer,' prevents the aconite from degrading."
Snape was silent for a long moment. The entire class held its breath, expecting a detention until Christmas.
Instead, Snape said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "…See me after class."
In Snape's office, surrounded by pickled things in jars, the Potions Master didn't yell. He demanded to know everything. Zhang Ming, seeing a fellow precision-obsessed mind, explained his 'optimizations' in the language of molecular interaction rates and catalytic efficiency.
Snape listened, rapt. For the first time in years, someone was speaking his language—a language far beyond 'eye of newt.'
"…You will assist me," Snape finally said, it sounding less like a request and more like a decree. "With the advanced potions. Saturday evenings. Do not be late."
Zhang Ming merely nodded. He had just acquired a powerful, if grumpy, ally.
Back in the Ravenclaw common room that evening, Zhang Ming was surrounded. His 'study group' had exploded in popularity after the day's events. Even older students were vying for his attention.
"Show us the light thing again!"
"How did you talk back to Snape and live?!"
Holding up a hand for silence, Zhang Ming announced, "The first official meeting of the Science and Cultivation Research Club is this Saturday. In the Room of Requirement. We'll start with the fundamentals: sensing your internal energy."
The excited buzz was electric. The revolution had its first recruits.